


Waiting for Rain

by saltsanford



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, missing moment, rvb secret santa 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5536748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsanford/pseuds/saltsanford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the universe grants you a second chance. Missing moment from Season 10, when Wash and Doc meet again at Valhalla. Written for tumblr user @axapanda53, for RvB Secret Santa 2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for Rain

When Doc finally sees Wash again, he doesn't recognize him at first.

Only a few months have gone by since he patched Wash up after Sidewinder, so he can't blame it on the amount of time passing. It isn't that he looks different, either. There's the same blue armor, the same yellow accents. Same battle rifle, locked and loaded, safety off. 

He remembers Wash shaken and wounded, uncertain that becoming the new leader of Blue Team was a good or sound idea. Wash standing with his arms wrapped around his torso, elbows resting in his palms, watching Doc drive away to return their Warthog back to Command.

 _This_ Wash, however-

It's something in the way he carries himself. The tilt of his head. The line of his spine. The set of his shoulders. The way that he has become, somehow, _more_ than when Doc last saw him. 

So when Wash rounds the corner, exasperation apparent in the stomping of his feet and in every syllable of his voice as he says, " _There_ you guys are-"

Well, it takes Doc a few seconds to place him. His moment of uncertainty goes largely unnoticed, as Wash stops walking so suddenly it's as if he's run into a glass wall.

"Wash!" Doc exclaims, once his moment of confusion has passed. "You're here!"

Wash looks at him. Looks over at Donut. Looks back at him. 

Looks at Donut again and says, "um."

Doc blinks. He has to look between the two of them a few times himself before it clicks. "Oh! Um..." he turns to Donut and says, "this is...an old friend."

"Pleased to meet you," Donut says cheerfully, and Wash says nothing, just stares.

Doc decides that it's high time for him to address the situation with a sense of urgency before things get even weirder. "Be right back," he says to Donut, before he walks over to Wash and grabs his arm-

and Wash- 

He doesn't yank his arm away. He doesn't turn and run. He just _lets_ Doc take ahold of his elbow and drag him back around the corner. Once they are well out of earshot of Donut, Doc turns to face Wash and says, "Don't freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," says Wash, and Doc winces a little at the eerie calm in his voice.

"That was Donut," says Doc, deciding he better state the obvious for the sake of clarity.

"Yeah," says Wash. He pauses. "Except, uh. I shot him."

Doc sighs. "Yeah, you did-"

"No, I-" and _there_ it is, the slightly high, panicked note Doc was expecting. "No, I _really_ shot him. I mean. I killed him."

"Well," says Doc slowly. "That's the thing. You didn't."

There's a long, lingering pause during which Doc opens and closes his mouth several times, unsure of if it would be best to speak or just remain silent.

Wash solves the problem for him when he says, "I did, though."

Doc sighs. "Wash-"

"No, no, don't, I-" he steps back a little, and Doc remembers, vividly, a Wash backing away from him, shaking with an oncoming panic attack. "I can't-"

" _Wash_ ," he says again, and Wash at least stops retreating. "Listen to me. When I left you guys after Sidewinder, I didn't...I didn't go straight back to Command, like I said. I came back to Valhalla, first."

"You came to Valhalla, first," says Wash numbly. "Why?"

"To tie up loose ends. I wanted to make sure there wasn't anything here that would blow this whole charade. You being the new leader, and all that. And...to bury Donut."

Wash startles. "To bury Donut?"

"He was my friend," Doc says simply, and leaves it at that.

It has the desired effect: Wash looks slightly calmer though no less punch drunk. "Donut's alive," he says, dazed. "I...I didn't kill him?"

The hope and vulnerability in his tone makes something inside of Doc's chest ache. "You didn't kill him."

Wash sits down in a way that's really more of a controlled fall and leans heavily against a rock. "Do the others know?"

"Sarge and Simmons do." Doc slides down the rock wall and sits next to him. "You just missed them, actually."

Wash nods, relieved. "Did they seem happy? To see Donut?"

Doc laughs. "These guys? Of course not. Come on, it's Red Team."

"It took them awhile to forgive me." Wash still sounds somewhat stunned. "Especially Simmons."

"But they did?"

Wash looks at him. "They did." He pauses. "It turns out you were right."

"About what?"

"About saying sorry. Out loud. Saying the words, it helped."

"See? Don't underestimate the power of words in the healing process," Doc says knowingly, and although he can't see Wash's face, he can imagine pretty well the eye roll Wash is clearly doing. "You know what you have to do next, right?"

Wash slants him a suspicious look. "What?"

"Apologize to Donut."

"Apologize to- no, I can't," he says, and the panicky note is back in his voice. "He'll-"

"Hey," Doc says sternly, "the universe is giving you a second chance, here. Don't walk away from it."

Wash looks at him for awhile, before reaching up and popping the seals on his helmet. He looks the same as when Doc last saw him- blond hair a little shaggier, dark circles a little lighter, but mostly the same- yet there's something different about his face, less tension, less sadness.

"It's not often I get those." He's got his helmet cradled between his hands and is staring into the visor. "Second chances. It doesn't seem...fair. I don't deserve this."

Doc removes his own helmet then, fishing his glasses out from his armor pocket. He nudges Wash's shoulder a little. "This isn't about you. Donut didn't survive for the sole purpose of giving you a clean slate."

"I know that," Wash says quickly. "I know-"

"But," Doc continues loudly, "that doesn't mean you don't deserve one."

Wash pauses, shakes his head a little. "The intent was still there," he says quietly, and Doc feels that ache deep in his chest again.

"I know. But are you sorry?"

There is no hesitation when he meets Doc's eyes. "More than you know."

"Then let yourself have that clean slate, Wash," Doc says simply, and although Wash doesn't look convinced, he at least doesn't argue. Doc smiles a little, and nudges him again. "It's good to see you."

Wash laughs a little. "Yeah. It's, uh. It's good to see you, too. So how...how are you? What have you been doing, anyway?" He shakes his head. "Sorry. I'm still relearning how to do this."

"How to do what?" Doc knows what he means, but he also knows that Wash needs to say things out loud to really feel them.

"How to...have friends," Wash says, and it's awkward, but far less so than Doc was expecting.

He hides a smile. "I'm...good?" he thinks for a moment, then nods. "I came straight here after I left you guys. Found Donut- his armor locked up, that's what kept him alive- patched him up, and we've been here ever since."

"You never returned the jeep to Command?"

"Oh no, we did. Made a nice little road trip out of it. Figured we could go anywhere, really, but..." he shrugs. "In the end, it just felt right to come back here. We're creatures of habit, you know."

"I do," says Wash, then looks at Doc a little strangely. "How come you haven't asked me what we're all doing back here?"

"Do you want to tell me?" Doc asks simply.

Wash fidgets with his helmet a little, before taking a breath and unleashing the whole story: how he and the Reds and Blues were learning to trust each other, how Carolina showed up and found them, the mission to bust Epsilon out of the UNSC Archives, their current search for clues as to the Director's whereabouts, and-

"I don't even know if I care about this anymore, Doc, about finding the Director, or Project Freelancer, or..." he runs a hand through his hair, and meets Doc's eyes for the first time since he started talking. "Is that wrong of me? To not want to kill the man who started this all? Who ruined so many lives?"

Doc blows out a breath, long and slow. "It's never wrong to not want to take a life, Wash, but that's not what you mean, is it?" Wash shakes his head. "What _do_ you want? It's no longer revenge, or justice, so... what is it?"

Wash doesn't answer right away, and when he does, the words come slowly. "I want...coffee. Good coffee, every morning. And a porch to drink it on." He hesitates, but when he speaks again, the words come stronger. "I want water. Lots of it. A lake, or a pond. Rain. I want to go for a run without my armor and not have to worry that I'm gonna get shot in the back. I want to never hear the words Project Freelancer again. I want a cat. Or three cats. And...so help me, I want to listen to these idiots bicker, and I want to do it for a long time."

"Well," says Doc. "I think you have your answer, right there."

They share a silence, and it's subtle and it's full. "I think I'm going to have to choose," Wash says after awhile, and something about the way he says it tells Doc that _this_ , more than anything else, is what has Wash so conflicted. "The guys don't trust Carolina, and....I think I'm going to have to choose between them, and her."

"Do you know what choice you'll make?"

And this time, Wash doesn't have to think about it. "Yes. I do."

He's looking Doc square in the face, eyes sharp and succinct and unwavering, and Doc thinks of the desert. He'd only seen Wash without his helmet once then, and it was by accident, when he must've thought Doc and Meta were both asleep. Doc wouldn't have woken up at all if it hadn't been for a strange, foreign sound that didn't belong in the desert-

rain, pattering softly against his visor. 

He had opened his eyes to see the usually blank sky dotted with patchy clouds. For several minutes, he kept his eyes skyward, watching the shapes the raindrops made as they slid down his visor, before glancing around. He'd been hoping to find both Wash and Meta asleep, so that he might take off his helmet and breathe in the fresh air. A quick glance confirmed that Meta was indeed asleep, but Wash-

Wash was standing several dozen feet away, his helmet off and tucked under one arm. His eyes were closed, face upturned to the sky, and Doc found himself unable to look away. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been for Wash to be quite so young. He couldn't be that far off from Doc's own age, and he couldn't decide if he was more struck by that, or by the fact that Wash was helmet-less and unarmed, focused only on the rain sliding down his face.

Doc tensed a little when Wash opened his eyes before remembering that he still had his own helmet on, and there was no way for Wash to tell if he was awake or not. He couldn't see the color of Wash's eyes from this distance, but he could see that they were bright and clear, and he could see that they were full of conflicting, unnamed emotions.

They're still full of warring emotions, but Doc can name them this time: loyalty mixed with uncertainty, anger mixed with exhaustion. He can see their color now, too: blue as a cloudless desert sky, waiting for rain.

"When the time comes to make that choice," Doc says slowly, "make it, and all of the other choices will follow."

Something in Wash's face settles at his words, and he nods once before climbing to his feet and offering his hand to Doc. Doc takes it and lets Wash pull him to a stand, clapping a hand to his shoulder. "You good?"

"I'm good," Wash says. "I'll think about...what you said. About Donut. I'll talk to him, I just need...I just need some time."

"I'll talk to him, too," Doc says, and grins at the look of alarm on Wash's face. "Hey. It'll be alright. Trust me."

"Okay," Wash says, then glances around as if just remembering where he was. "I gotta find my team. They could be anywhere by now."

He's about to start his descent back down the hill when he pauses and backtracks a bit. "I just realized...I don't know your name."

"Oh! You don't, I suppose! It's Frank. Frank DuFresne."

Wash is watching him in a way that's almost apprehensive, as if waiting for something. Doc thinks fast, sticking out the hand that isn't gripping his helmet and adding with a cheeky grin, "but you can call me Doc."

Wash rolls his eyes, but he's smiling when he takes Doc's hand and gives it a hearty shake. "David," he says suddenly, and Doc is so startled that he freezes, hand going still inside Wash's. "My name is....was. It was. David. But uh. You can call me Wash."

Doc doesn't want to move, or breathe, or do anything to shatter the moment. He simply gives Wash's hand another firm shake and laughs a little. "Alright. Go find your team, Wash."

Wash does.


End file.
